Of Pulleys and Prophecies
by Lintlizard
Summary: Harry Potter and The Transformers crossover that started as a joke. How might HBP have ended differently, had the Autobots gotten involved? And how would the hunt for the Horcruxes go? Slash and nonslash, character death, all reviews and flames welcome.
1. Chapter 1

"Severus… please…"

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore…

…And was promptly squished by an enormous hand. An enormous _blue_ hand, attached to an enormous red arm, attached to a hulking figure who had just appeared at the rim of the Tower.

"I made it just in time, I see. Is everyone alright?"

Harry looked wildly from the new arrival, to the flabbergasted Death Eaters, to the large wet stain that had once been Severus Snape, to Dumbledore still slumped against the battlements. Oddly enough, Dumbledore didn't seem at all surprised to see his rescuer; in fact, he looked downright relieved.

"Optimus, darling! While I daresay Severus has seen better days, yes, we are all alright. Although there does seem to be some commotion within the castle. Am I correct in guessing that the rest of your Autobots are here as well?"

The newcomer's glowing blue "eyes" shone a bit brighter, showing – could it be fondness? "Affirmative. As soon as Teletraan-I alerted us that the Dark Mark had appeared over the school, we rolled here."

"Splendid! Oh, but where are my manners." Gesturing with his wand, Dumbledore ended the Body-Bind he'd placed on Harry, and placed the same curse upon each of the Death Eaters gathered by the door. Judging by the looks on their faces, they hadn't even noticed. "Optimus my love, I would like you to meet Harry Potter. Harry, I present to you Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."

Harry stepped forward and removed his cloak as Optimus hoisted himself onto the top of the Tower and squatted to be more on a level with the human. "Er, pleased to meet you, Optimus sir."

"Likewise, Harry. And just Optimus will do." Suddenly, a shrill beeping cut through the night. "Ah, that'll be Cliffjumper. Report!"

At the command, a gruff voice issued from Prime's forearm. "Prime, almost all of the Death Eaters are either fleeing or in our custody. Professor McGonagall questioned one of them under Veritaserum for a list of those involved in the attack; only four Death Eaters, as well as Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, are unaccounted for."

"Excellent work, Cliffjumper! Severus Snape has been neutralized, and Mr. Malfoy is incapacitated on the Astronomy Tower roof along with four Death Eaters. Dumbledore is here too, but injured. I'm going to take him to the Hospital Wing personally. Prime out."

"Ah yes, the Hospital Wing. Lovely idea, Optimus," said Dumbledore as he stepped up onto Prime's proffered hand and the robot straightened up to leave. "Would you care for a lift, Harry?"

"Er, no thank you Professor. I'll walk."

"Suit yourself!" the old man called as Prime jumped off the Tower and glided towards the infirmary windows. Watching them go, Harry shook his head to clear it. _What in Merlin's name is happening?_ Realizing he wasn't going to find any answers alone at the top of the tallest tower, he cast Mobilicorpus on the frozen Death Eaters and sent them down the stairs. When he looked into Malfoy's frozen eyes, however, his nose gave a painful twinge as it remembered Malfoy's foot at the year's onset. With an evil grin, Harry simply pushed Malfoy's frozen form down the stairs.

Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix any damage done; and besides, being the Chosen One had to have SOME perks.


	2. Chapter 2

William Arthur Weasley was having a very bad day. First he woke up to the smell of burning French toast, Fleur having decided to take a shot at making breakfast before Molly woke up (_and how a French woman can bollocks up French toast is beyond me,_ he thought). Then he was almost late for an Order meeting he'd completely forgotten about and hadn't prepared for.

Being attacked by a werewolf didn't help matters in the slightest.

As he woke, the first thing he noticed was a horrible smell that seemed to be clinging to his face. He sat bolt-upright in bed, nearly banging heads with his mother and Fleur, who had been leaning over him in their concern.

The second thing he noticed was the large white mechanical man at the foot of his bed, watching him intently.

The third thing he noticed was that the smell was not getting any better. Suddenly angry, he began wiping frantically at his face to rid himself of the smell.

"Whoah there, champ!" called the white machine. He had an American twang. "Madam Pomfrey says you need to keep that on there for at least another few thousand astroseconds. Hold still." The thing's left hand promptly disappeared, to be replaced by a pair of thin tubules that extended toward Bill's face. The young man instinctively flinched away, baring his teeth, as the tubules found their way into each of his nostrils; a second later, he could smell nothing at all, and began to calm down.

"What was… what are… what?" he managed, looking to his mother for support.

"Perhaps I should explain," the mechanical fellow said in his oddly cheerful voice. "My name is Ratchet, and I am an Autobot. A medic, to be specific. Myself and some of my colleagues are helping your Madam Pomfrey tend to those who were wounded in the battle."

"Wounded…" Bill looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time the mixture of blood and chartreuse goop covering them. "My face…?"

"It was Grayback, dear," Molly said, tears welling up in her eyes. "He was human at the time, but we don't know what will happen to you yet."

"So my nose…"

"Was likely enhanced by the werewolf's attack. I froze it with some Novocain so the ointment smell wouldn't bother you," said Ratchet with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to continue my rounds now that you're awake."

As the Autobot proceeded to another bed, Bill had a clearer view of the rest of the hospital wing. Sure enough, mixed in with the witches and wizards were more mechanical men, some lying on metal slabs (transfigured from beds, from the looks of them) and some moving about the room, offering assistance. One of them, a relatively small yellow one, was approaching his bed with a young man in Muggle clothing whom he'd never seen before, and Fred and George.

"Bill! You're awake!" said one.

"Yeah, and you haven't sprouted whiskers yet. Pay up, Fred."

"You two slipped me something, didn't you," Bill managed, before slipping thankfully back into unconciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Having spent six years in what had to be the most unpredictable and magical building in the entire United Kingdom, Harry had thought he was incapable of being unduly surprised by strange happenings and sights. But on the night of the Leaving Feast, he was once again proven wrong.

Giant robots have a tendency to do that.

To make things simpler for all concerned, the Autobots had conceded to be transfigured from their usual proportions to human stature for the duration of the Feast. This allowed them to mingle with the student population, to delight of students and Cybertronians alike.

Before the golden platters (which were accompanied by golden gas and oilcans for the mechanical guests) filled themselves, Dumbledore stood from his seat at the Head Table, where Prime was sitting next to him.

"Ere our end-of-year feast begins, I have some acknowledgements to make. Not only to each and every one of the brave witches and wizards- and yes, students as well- who fought valiantly to defend this school from the evil forces of Lord Voldemort, but also to those whose presence on our side of the battle truly secured our victory: Optimus Prime and the Autobots.

"I know many of you are confused. The Autobots are a faction of Transformers, mechanical beings from the planet of Cybertron. Where we here have access to magic and all that it provides, the Autobots have access to technology beyond anything Earth has seen, as well as the ability to transform into other mechanical devices.

"The bulk of the Autobot force is concentrated in America, but Optimus and some of his soldiers have agreed to come here to help us in our fight against the Dark. So please extend them every courtesy.

"And without further ado: Tuck in!"

Dumbledore sat back, enjoying the afterglow of a particularly good meal and the knowledge that his school and his students were safe, at least for the moment. He observed Spike Witwicky and Bumblebee regaling the Gryffindors with tales of adventures in America, and turned a kind smile on Optimus Prime.

"You really were just in time, you know. Any later, and I would have been done for. Thank you."

A casual observer wouldn't be able to notice the change in the seemingly cold Autobot exterior, but Albus had learned to read Prime's mannerisms superbly over the past several years, and it was plainly obvious that the robot was embarrassed.

"Really Albus, I'm sure you would have been able to defend yourself had I been slower. You're a very powerful wizard."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, that potion had me weak as a kitten." He leaned closer to Optimus, and in a whisper added "Once we leave the feast, I do believe that I can find a way to both thank you properly _and_ take advantage of your current stature. After all, there's more than one reason that I'm called the Headmaster."

Further down the table, Hagrid was deep in conversation with Wheeljack when the Autobot happened to glance over to his leader.

"Wow, I wonder what'd got Prime so flustered? I haven't seen him like this since my matter nullifier malfunctioned and disappeared all our pelvic plates!"

"Oh, ne'rmind that, now, you were sayin' summat about mechanical dragons...?"


	4. Chapter 4

As Harry was packing his trunk and discussing plans with Ron to get him out of Number Four and back into the Burrow as soon as possible, Dobby Apparated into the middle of the dormitory with a loud _CRACK_ that startled Neville so badly that he not only dropped his socks, but also turned them purple.

"Dobby, we really must have a chat about alternate ways for you to come visit," Harry said once his own heart had reached its usual speed.

"Dobby apologizes for startled Harry Potter and his friends, but Professor Dumbledore has sent Dobby with a message for Harry Potter. Harry Potter is to meet with the Headmaster at Harry Potter's earliest convenience." And with that, Dobby disappeared again.

"Well, you better go, mate. I'll bring your trunk down if you're not back in time. Hope he hasn't changed the password," Ron mumbled around a Chocolate Frog.

Harry called out a quick thank you; he was already halfway out the door.

"Ah, Harry, prompt as always. Please, have a seat."

As Harry sat in his customary chair before the Headmaster's desk, he noticed something just outside the window. "Oh, hello Optimus, sir."

"Really, Harry, just Optimus is fine. Are you looking forward to the summer break?"

"Er," Harry wondered if he should answer truthfully to the bit of small talk, and decided to change the subject instead. "So, are you clinging to the side of the tower, then?"

"Oh, no, Albus was kind enough to attach a chair to the outside of the building for me."

"Ah…"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with laughter as he watched this exchange, but finally he decided enough was enough. "Harry, I've brought you here to discuss the Horcruxes. Of course, now that we have the support of the Autobots, it will be immeasurably easier to find them."

"It will, sir? Well, that's fantastic! We can go out and get them all in less than a fortnight!"

"It's not quite that simple, Harry. You see, the Autobots have a powerful supercomputer at their headquarters which they call Teletraan-I, and what we need to do is program it to detect the particular energies given off by an object that has become one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. This will take time."

Harry thought this over for a moment. "So, we're going to America, then?"

"Actually, Harry," Prime spoke up from the window, "Only Albus and I, along with some of my Autobots, will be returning to America. From what I've been told, you still need to return to your relatives once more."

"And you have my word, Harry, as soon as the other Horcruxes are located, I will send word to you and we will destroy them together."

Harry sank back into his chair with relief. The Horcrux problem was all but solved, now. He'd been dreading having to puzzle out where each one could be hidden, and then having to find Voldemort himself. With the Autobot computer, this was all going to be much simpler.

"Oh, and one more thing, Harry," came the voice from the window. "I'll be assigning you an Autobot guard for the time that you'll be with your relatives this summer, a soldier by the name of Gearbox. He's still a bit green, but I have the utmost faith in his abilities."

"Oh, er, thank you sir, I mean Optimus," Harry flustered. An Autobot guard? Harry rather imagined a mechanical Mad-Eye or Tonks following him about.

This was going to be an interesting summer…

* * *

_Meanwhile, elsewhere…_

"My Lord, a Muggle postman has arrived with some packages addressed… addressed to Thomas Riddle, Lord."

A high, sibilant voice answered. "Bring the packages to me, and send the Muggle to the dungeons."

"Yes, m'Lord."

As the servant scurried away, Lord Voldemort gazed idly over the expansive gardens of the Malfoy estate. Lucius must be getting lax with maintaining the repelling charms, if the Muggle postman could find the Manor. There would have to be… discipline.

"My Lord, the packages."

"Leave them on the table."

Voldemort did not bother to turn and look until the servant had left. When he did, he saw two curious Muggle artefacts: a weapon, a heavily modified pistol in fact, and a large blue-and-grey item he remembered as a cassette player. He strode over to the table to inspect the gun; in a rare moment of whimsy, he considered simply shooting Harry Potter the next time they crossed paths, nobody would ever expect it.

Suddenly, the gun began to quiver and shake, flying out of Voldemort's hands and spiraling through the air. As it flew, it began to shift and expand, as did the cassette player, until the Dark Lord found himself confronted by a pair of admittedly impressive mechanical figures.

"Are you the flesh-creature known as Thomas Marvolo Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort, aka The Dark Lord, aka He Who Must Not Be Named?" inquired the creature that had been a small cassette player mere moments before. The thing's horribly artificial voice grated on Voldemort's nerves.

"Yes, it is I. And I demand to know who you are and what is your purpose here!" he all but screamed, brandishing his wand. Dark Lords do not like being taken unawares.

"Forgive Soundwave's brusque demeanor, Lord Voldemort," spoke the other thing in a voice that seemed to be a long-time friend of cheap Scotch and cheaper cigars. "I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. I believe that we have a common foe at the moment…"


	5. Chapter 5

"So you're going to have a personal guard?"

"Seems that way."

Harry stared blankly out the window as he tried to imagine having a giant machine as a guard. He and Ginny had managed to get a compartment to themselves while Ron and Hermione were off attending to their Prefect duties, and had wasted no time in making the best of it before discussing what Dumbledore had wanted.

Of course, he hadn't told her all of it; he was sticking by his policy of not worrying Ginny about the Horcruxes. Up until Dumbledore had told him about Teletraan-I, in fact, he'd thought that he would have to drop out of school and spend most of the year hunting the vile objects down one by one, and he'd been planning to call it off with Ginny to give her a chance to be happy. Now, however…

Ginny, noticing the smirk crawling onto Harry's face, swung a leg over Harry's lap, letting her hair drape down around his face.

"He'll be able to transfigure into a Muggle automobile, right? Will you take me for a drive when you come to the Burrow for the rest of the summer?"

Grinning up into her bright brown eyes, Harry said "Well, that depends if he'll let me. Who knows, he might not even let ME in. Speaking of which…"

Ginny sat up straight in a pantomime of offended virtue. "Harry James Potter! I do believe I take offense at your lascivious innuendo!"

Laughing, Harry sat up as well to bring himself closer. "I was _going_ to say that one of us should lock that door in case a certain pair of Prefects finish their rounds early, as I was hoping we could do some more of this," he said, stretching up slightly to capture her mouth with his. The feel of her giggling against his lips was nearly divine, as she groped blindly for the doorlatch.

* * *

As the Hogwarts Express trailed its scarlet ribbon across the UK, Albus Dumbledore and Optimus Prime were flying across the sea to Mount St. Hilary in Oregon.

"Albus, dear, you really should let Ratchet take a look at that arm of yours. I'm certain he could build you a replacement."

Dumbledore took his withered right hand from his broomstick. "Ah, but I find I've grown rather attached to this arm over the years. Why, it's even come to feel like an extension of my own body," he said with a smile.

As providence would have it, though, the arm in question took this statement as its cue to simply separate cleanly at the elbow and tumble end-over-end into the sea. Man and machine alike stopped in midair to watch the wayward limb's descent, only looking at one another once it had sunk beneath the waves. Electric-blue optics met sparkling blue eyes for the briefest of moments before the pair began to roar with laughter.

"What kind of curse did you say it was on that ring?" Prime asked once his mirth was again under control.

"It just goes to show, dear, that even after years of intense study, magic can still find ways to surprise. Perhaps I will take you up on that visit to Ratchet after all."

And the pair flew on.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at Hogwarts…_

"Grumble, grumble, lousy wand-waving little gremlins, all they do is make a mess and then who has to make it all pretty for them to come back in the fall, it's us, isn't it my sweet?"

Argus Filch had been in the habit of speaking to his cat for as long as anyone could remember, and today was no different as the two of them trudged up the many steps of the Astronomy tower to fulfil another old habit of his: threatening to kill himself. For years, at the start of the summer break, Filch would climb to the highest tower and yell for hours about jumping off and being shot of having to look after Hogwarts castle until he was invariably distracted by something.

This time was no different.

"They don't appreciate me, they don't, and I'll tell you another- OH, would you look at this! What's this ruddy great stain here, it's at least the size of a man! Oh look, sweet, someone's actually tried to help us by sticking a robe in the middle to sop it up. What a load of rubbish! This stain's been here a week at least…!" and with that, he plodded back down the steps of the tower to fetch his cleaning supplies.


	6. Chapter 6

The car ride back from King's Cross station was as silent and sullen as ever, with Uncle Vernon silently bristling with rage (just as he'd been thinking he could delay picking Harry up by a couple of hours, an owl had swooped in the sitting-room window bearing a message that simply read "Do be prompt; We're watching,") and Harry mourning his return, however brief, to the Muggle world. He was shaken out of his daydreams, however, as Uncle Vernon pulled in to Number Four.

"What's this ruddy thing, then?!" the mustachioed man exclaimed, gesturing at the squat machine parked in front of the house. Wracking his brain, Harry was surprised to find he recognized it.

"It's a SmartCar! Hermione's parents just got one a few months ago, they sent her a picture," he said, ignoring the clench in Uncle Vernon's jaw at the mention of Harry's schoolfriend.

"Hmph. Bloody hippie car, is what it is. Look at the size of it, all it would take to total it is-" Uncle Vernon began, before remembering whom he was speaking to and thinking better of it.

Harry didn't even notice, walking over to the machine as soon as Uncle Vernon's car had stopped, running his hand along the black-and-green finish, noticing that it matched his eyes exactly. Uncle Vernon, meanwhile, was heading inside, and already bellowing questions about the mystery car. Harry only followed him inside long enough to deposit Hedwig and his trunk in his bedroom, then returned to ogle the car some more.

"Phew, glad he's gone. Nothing worse than an angry fat man."

Harry jumped back from the car, as the voice seemed to have come from inside it. After peering through the windows to see who was inside, he mentally kicked himself. Of course there was noone inside.

"Are you an Autobot, then?" he asked the car as politely as he could, wondering idly what part of it he should be addressing. He was saved from wondering very long, as the car began to rearrange itself, limbs springing out from the sides and splaying on the ground, giving the impression that the car had traded its wheels for arms and legs. The roof pulled back into the boot as the windscreen flipped over to cover the passenger compartment, while at the same time the bonnet and dashboard tilted forward. The construct finally stood up straight as a head stuck up out of a compartment in the dash, wearing a helmet similar to one of the other Autobots Harry had seen (Bluestreak, he thought the robot's name had been) aside from the pale green visor across the eyes. The Autobot gave a mighty stretch, which included spinning the steering wheel jutting out of his right shoulder, before turning to face Harry.

"Ahhhh, feels good to transform back. Feels like I've been parked there for hours. You're Harry, arn'cha? The name's Gearbox, I'm going to be keeping an eye on you while Prime and Dumbledore are gone. Put 'er there!" Harry couldn't see the machine's eyes behind the visor, but the tone of his voice gave him away – Gearbox was every bit as nervous as Harry was. _Best to start this on the right foot, then,_ he thought, taking the offered hand and giving it a shake.

"You're not very large for an Autobot, are you?" he blurted. _Shite, good going Harry._ But it was true, Gearbox only stood half again as tall as Harry; he was willing to bet Hagrid was at least a head bigger.

As for the slight _faux pas_, the machine took it in stride, shaking his head and chuckling. "I'm actually part of a new unit that's been in the works since the Autobots started getting more involved in human affairs. It's geared towards recruiting more Minibots like myself and Bumblebee – you've met Bumblebee, right? – to act as bodyguards for prominent humans. Cool, huh? Hey, wanna go for a drive? I'm itching to spin my wheels a bit after sitting in this street all day. Hop in, we'll get ice cream or something!" And with that, he transformed rapidly back into the green SmartCar that Uncle Vernon was still ranting about inside, the drivers-side door wide open.

Harry smiled, thinking that Gearbox reminded him a great deal of Seamus Finnigan. As soon as his safety belt was buckled, the door slammed shut and the car took off with a screech of tires that had the neighbours all the way up to Number Twelve looking out their windows to see what was going on.

Maybe this stay with the Dursleys wasn't going to be so bad after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Voldemort was very glad of eight things. The first was that he possessed the ability to indefinitely shrink these tiresome Decepticons to human size. The second was that the Decepticons did _not_ possess the ability to return to their usual towering statures.

"UNDO THIS DAMNABLE HOCUS-POCUS, HUMAN!"

The third through eighth things, he reflected as the composite atoms of his chest and torso were ripped apart by the force of Megatron's cannons, were his Horcruxes. He waited patiently for his body to reconstitute itself, then raised his wand and calmly and eloquently explained to the irate Cybertronian that Malfoy Manor was by no means equipped to accommodate beings of typical Transformer stature, and furthermore it was all but impossible to have meaningful discussions with a creature many times your own size.

Cruciatus may not work on robots, but dismemberment charms are useful _and_ fun.

* * *

"See Harry, I knew you'd end up taking me for a drive."

Harry was definitely enjoying his summer so far. Even though the Order had decided that he stay with the Dursley's until the charm ended on his seventeenth birthday for maximum protection, it was far more bearable now that he had a way to get very far from Privet Drive very quickly. Not to mention that for the first time in his life, he had something all to himself that drove Dudley absolutely green with envy.

As it turned out, Dudley had trying out for his driver's permit ever since he'd turned seventeen himself a few months prior, and failing spectacularly each time on the merit of treating the automobile like a bumper car. Harry, of course, had simply gone to Fred and George to get an ordinary three of clubs transfigured into a fake ID.

At the moment, though, Harry wasn't thinking of Dudley, or driving, or even the movie that was playing on the drive-in's enormous screen (something involving men in suits and space aliens). He was far more interested in the one hundred some-odd pounds of girl snuggled comfortably at his side on the car's windscreen, which had been obligingly tilted back to keep the couple from sliding off.

"We woulda come to get you sooner, but Harry neglected to mention he had such a knockout for a girlfriend, the sly dog."

"Gearbox, shut it!" Harry laughed, giving the bonnet a light smack as Ginny blushed in the darkness.

"Hey, I calls 'em like I sees 'em, Harry."

"Yeah, well, find your own!"

This time it was Ginny's turn to smack Harry. "Maybe we could introduce him to Dad's old Anglia in the Forest when we get back to school," she said, and they lasted all of five seconds before they broke down giggling.

* * *

"Soundwave, let the record show that I hate, hate, HATE that arrogant flesh-creature Riddle."

"Duly noted, Lord Megatron."

The Decepticon leader was in the section of the Manor's west wing that had been given to him and his troops as a base and planning centre, pacing before his most trusted soldier and fuming. How DARE that weak fleshling behave so smug and superior, as though he were some sort of god? Only the mighty MEGATRON was permitted to act that way!

"What I need, Soundwave, is a way to either cut him off from this 'magic' that he constantly uses against us, or a way to harness it's power for myself."

"Lord Megatron, may I point out that it would be prudent to first destroy Optimus Prime and the Autobots, as they present the greater threat? Once they are eliminated, the full force of the Decepticon army can be brought to bear on Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

Megatron stopped halfway across the room. "Yes… yes, I see your point, Soundwave. But just in case, I should have someone working on this problem. STARSCREAM!"

The red and white Seeker traipsed into the room dressed in a disheveled (and heavily tailored) French maid's outfit. "Ready for another go so soon, Megatron? At this rate, you'll blow your servos and I'll be able to step in as leader of the Decepticons!"

Megatron had never understood how his oft-traitorous subordinate could simultaneously screech and purr when he wanted to. "There will be plenty of time for you to blow my servos later, Starscream. Right now I need you to return to our communications post and get in touch with Shockwave. Tell him I need all the information he can assimilate on magic."

Starscream's red eyes grew colder. "Right away, _mighty_ Megatron," he growled, ripping the costume off with one hand and flying out the window.

With Starscream gone, Megatron turned his attention back to Soundwave. "When Laserbeak first brought back the information about Prime and his new human friend in this country, I thought it would be a simple matter of finding the human's opposite measure and assisting him. I never imagined that I would find myself preparing for a war on two fronts!"

In his personal suite at the opposite end of the Manor, Lord Voldemort watched Megatron and his lieutenants shout and plot soundlessly in his scrying orb. Whatever they were planning, if they brought it to bear against him, he would make certain they'd regret it.


	8. Chapter 8

"Albus. Albus, wake up. Teletraan-I is ready."

Dumbledore pulled himself up from the depths of sleep. "Mmm, already?"

Prime's eyes flickered briefly as he chuckled. "You've been asleep for two hours. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."

Dumbledore took out his wand, and a moment later was climbing, albeit awkwardly, the ladder he'd conjured in order to plant a kiss on the side of Prime's faceplate. "It's the pulsing of your energon converter, love. It's so relaxing, it puts me right to sleep every time."

"You _have_ had a busy week, Albus. You deserve the rest." The concern in the robot's voice was clear, but Dumbledore simply shook his head.

"There will be time to rest when Voldemort is defeated. Everything is prepared?"

Prime sighed. He had always admired the old man's sense of duty, but that same trait made him worry for the Earth creature. "Yes. Teletraan-I has always been programmed to seek out sources of energy, to aid us in our original mission to find energy for our depleted homeworld."

"And powerful magical objects radiate a sort of energy, unique to the wizard or wizards involved."

"Precisely. So once we had the exemplar of Voldemort's magical signature from the locket you found, it was a simple matter of telling Teletraan-I to seek out other sources emanating the same energy."

"Which will lead us not only to the Horcruxes, but also to Voldemort himself. Wonderful! We must alert Harry at once!"

Prime smiled beneath his faceplate, a motion only a keen observer could catch. "I've already sent Gearbox a coded transmission. One thing worries me, however."

"What is it, Optimus?"

Prime stood up, Dumbledore sitting on his shoulder, and headed through the corridors of the Ark. "Well, ever since I went overseas to help you, there's been the usual Decepticon activity, but it seems that the main players are suspiciously absent. Nobody has seen Megatron and Soundwave, and it seems that the Constructicons are running the show. It's troubling…"

"That is curious, Optimus. But at the moment, what's _truly_ puzzling is that we seem to be traveling directly for your quarters."

Prime smiled again. "Are we? I hadn't noticed," he said as the doors to his private rooms closed behind them.

* * *

"That one looks good."

"Gearbox! Pull over!"

"Are you boys sure you haven't had enough?" the Autobot guard asked, doubtful.

"Nope!" Harry and Ron chorused in unison. Ever since Seamus and Dean had told them about a pub crawl they'd done the summer before (with fake IDs, of course), these two had been looking forward to the opportunity to have one of their own.

And with Gearbox along, they didn't need a designated driver.

As the two stumbled into the Muggle pub, their mechanical companion waited in the street, twitching his steering wheel and gearshift every now and then out of boredom. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was really cut out for this bodyguard work. But, if Prime believed he could do it…

"Gearbox?" said a voice from behind him. Startled, he'd transformed and drawn his gun before realizing who the voice belonged to.

"Bumblebee! Am I ever glad to see another Autobot. Er, and you, Spike. Harry and Ron are inside, if you were looking for a drinking buddy or two."

"Cool!" the human said, striding into the pub and looking fantastically out of place in his beige work shirt, blue jeans and bright yellow boots. He didn't seem to care, however.

"So, how's the guard duty, GB?" Bumblebee asked once Spike was inside.

"Oh, er, well, it's great, I mean, Harry's no trouble at all, and…" he trailed off, noticing the skeptical grin on the other bot's face. "It's BORING, Bumblebee! Most of the time he's either in the house, where I can't come inside without the Horse-Lady screeching at me, or doing things like this where I'm usually left outside on the street. I mean, I don't mind driving him around, we get along great, but I'm not cut out for sitting around doing nothing, I've gotta MOVE, you know?"

Bumblebee just nodded. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to. Tell you what, the humans are gonna be a while. Why don't you and I go find some fun in the meantime?" With that, Bumblebee pulled two oilcans from his trunk compartment.

"Y'know what… that sounds just fine," the younger Autobot said with a grin.

"Perfect! I'll tell Spike." Bumblebee opened the door and stuck his head inside. "Hey, Spike!"

"Yeah?"

"Gearbox and I are heading out for a while!"

"Stay out of trouble!" the human called back, clearly eager to return his attentions to the blonde on his left and the redhead on his right.

"Same goes to you!" The robot stood to face Gearbox. "Well, let's go!"

The two transformed and drove off into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ah, the _mighty_ Megatron. So good of you to meet with me."

The Dark Lord was in the Decepticon "base" within Malfoy Manor, holding an audience with Megatron and Soundwave. Soundwave appeared supremely bored with the proceedings, taking the time to run maintenance checks on Laserbeak and Ravage.

"Bite my boron compressor, human. What do you want?"

Voldemort spread his hands wide, a parody of injury on his face. "Why, I only want what we both want. The destruction of our respective adversaries. Surely, this is agreeable?"

Megatron grinned. "Why didn't you say so? I propose a full-scale assault against the enemy base! STARSCREAM!" he suddenly yelled, startling Laserbeak and sending the small Decepticon flying and screeching around the room.

Starscream entered presently, dressed in a Catholic schoolgirl uniform modified to fit his robot body, complete with a blonde pigtail wig. "What do you require, oh mighty ruler? Is it time for another spanking?" he asked, idly twirling one of the pigtails around one blocky finger.

"No, there will be plenty of time for that later. I need you to get to the comm station and-"

A series of loud bangs issued from Voldemort's wand, cutting the Decepticon leader short. "IF I may continue?" he drawled, staring pointedly at Megatron as Soundwave tried to coax Ravage down from the top of the curtains.

"The 'enemy base,' as you put it, is a school. This being the end of June, the school is deserted but for a Squib, a cat, a half-giant, and a plethora of ghosts. Hardly high-profile targets, although we could make wonderful sport of the Squib.

"However, in two days time, the thorn in my side known as Harry Potter will be turning seventeen, and the protective charm on him will end. I will finally be able to locate the hovel where he spends his summers, burn it to the ground, kill everyone inside, and by nightfall have Potter's head on my mantelpiece."

"Ex-CUSE me, but am I even _needed_ here?!" came an irritable screech from the doorway.

"NO!" shouted the Dark Lord and the Decepticon leader simultaneously.

"FINE!" came the indignant reply, as Starscream tore off the wig and costume, throwing it to the ground before jumping out the window to transform and fly away.

"He'll be back, he always is," Megatron said, turning his attention back to Voldemort. "But I fail to see how the Potter fleshling factors into the destruction of Optimus Prime!"

"Patience, Megatron. Everything will be revealed in time…"

* * *

"Oi, my head." 

"Someone close the bloody curtain."

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Spike muttered, staggering across Ron's tiny bedroom to yank the curtains shut and block out the hateful light. "Whatever that thing you did to get us here was, I hope I never have to go through it again."

"What, Side-Along-Apparition? Can't say I blame you," Harry muttered into the ball of laundry he'd used as a pillow the night before. "I jus' don't understand why Gearbox and Bumblebee left. Isn't Gearbox supposed to be guarding me?"

"I s'pose he thought you could take care of yourself in a Muggle pub. Plus, he's a hyper little thing, isn't he? Prob'ly got tired of sitting out on the street by himself."

Spike stretched. "Well, I just hope they didn't get into too much trouble…"

* * *

"Oh, my equilibrium circuits. What did we do last night?" 

"Trust me, Gearbox. You don't want to know…"

Gearbox, thankful for his visor in the early morning sunlight, looked around at his and Bumblebee's surroundings.

"No, we didn't… did we? I think I'd remember this… although it explains why my manifolds ache…"

The two of them had found their way to an auto scrapyard. All around them were beat-up junkers, hollowed-out chasses, and cars that had been stripped of their outer paneling. Those closest to the two Transformers seemed to have had the worst of it.

"Ohhhh, DARN it! This is gonna be one embarrassing visit to Hoist…"

Gearbox looked over and tried not to laugh, for the sake of his friend. Bumblebee's plating was covered with rust right around the tops of his legs.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at Hogwarts Castle…_

Severus Snape looked around, confused. How had he gotten down to his potions lab? The last thing he remembered, he'd been up in the Astronomy tower, about to…

About to…

_Oh, bollocks._

Well, it explained the floating and noticeable lack of being solid. With a sigh, he floated through the wall in order to make his way to the Headmaster's office. Might as well explain himself, if he was going to be spending eternity here.

Eternity. There was a depressing thought. Although it gave him plenty of time to think up new potions, it also had the drawback of keeping him from making any, unless he could find someone competent enough to make them for him.

Floating up through the floor of Dumbledore's office, he looked around. Dumbledore usually stayed at Hogwarts for at least a month to catch up on end-of-year paperwork, but the office was empty of life save for Fawkes, who had just noticed Snape and-

"Did you just stick out your tongue at me? You snarky little feather duster. Hmph. A brain better stocked than a potions warehouse and I can't even get a little posthumous respect. The nerve of some creatures." As it was evidently clear that Dumbledore was not pleasant, Snape began to float downward once again.

"And I've got this horrible pain in all the ectoplasm down my left-hand side…"

* * *

AN: I have no idea if I used the right plural of "chassis" up there in the scrapyard. Odd word, isn't it? Kind of like moose. Also, thanks to those of you who've already left reviews; I wasn't expecting _any_ so soon after posting this, let alone _positive_ ones. Cool.  



	10. Chapter 10

When Gearbox received the message from Prime that Teletraan-I was ready to start searching for Horcruxes, he decided to wait just a bit to tell Harry. After all, a wizard doesn't turn seventeen every day, and Harry did seem to be enjoying himself. The Weasleys were throwing him a big party, with half the Order and most of the going-on-seventh-year Gryffindors in attendance. Dumbledore and Prime hadn't returned yet, but there'd been something in the message about checking in at the castle first, so Gearbox wasn't too worried.

* * *

At sunset, the door to Number Four, Privet Drive burst inward in a shower of splinters.

"Search the building. I want Potter found."

* * *

Fred – or was it George? – tapped his spoon on his glass and stood up. "Everyone, a toast! To the birthday boy! TO HARRY!"

"TO HARRY!" was the answering chorus, as everyone but the embarrassed toastee drank deep from their glass… and promptly turned into a giant chicken.

* * *

Aunt Petunia fell into the kitchen, hitting her head on the edge of the marble countertop, leaving a deep, ugly gash. "What do you want, you-you-you, you FREAKS? Get out of my home!" she shrieked.

"Now now, is that any way to speak to your elder and better? I think not. _Crucio_."

"MUM!" Dudley roared, as his mother writhed in pain on the tile floor…

* * *

"An' then one time, this woulda bin their sixth year, I went into Greenhouse Five to get rid o' some rogue Bowtruckles that had gotten in an' were getting' up to mischief. So I head in there with me bag an' me fairy eggs, an' what do I find? Not only 'ave the Bowtruckles up an' gone, but there's James n' Lily behind the Nordic Nacksmoor without a stich o' clothing twixt the two o' them!"

The small audience that had gathered round Hagrid roared with laughter, Harry included. He loved hearing stories about his parents at school, particularly with all his friends about.

"Hey, are you lot planning on letting us down anytime soon?" called one of the twins from up a tree.

"Nope!" called Ron, pulling a feather from Hermione's hair. Harry noted that his two best friends had been sitting progressively closer to one another all evening.

* * *

"You bastard, you ruddy bastard, I'll kill you…" wheezed Vernon Dursley, cradling the bodies of his wife and son as he knelt on the blood-streaked tile. Gathering his resolve, he forced himself to look up at the men who had entered his house and destroyed his life. As he couldn't see past the masks of the two clear subordinates, he focused all his rage on the deformed man in the middle, glaring right into his cold, red eyes. "I will kill you with my own bare HANDS!" And he leaped at Voldemort, meaty hands stretched toward the wizard's neck.

"Oh, _yawn_," drawled the Dark Lord, carelessly Apparating directly behind the enraged Muggle and hitting him with a Leg-Locker Curse. "Now, I am only going to ask you this once more, Muggle filth: _Where. Is. Harry. Potter._"

Vernon rolled over to face Voldemort. "Go to hell," he said, and spat right in the wizard's face.

Voldemort made no move at first, simply sat on his haunches next to Vernon and stared. Casting a simple wandless cleaning charm on his face, he stood up and dusted off his robes. "Very well then. If that is the way it is to be. _Incendio_."

* * *

It was nearly midnight, and as Harry looked around the Weasley backyard he realized that he had never had a more thoroughly enjoyable birthday. Rather than go home, the various witches and wizards in attendance had simply conjured a number of tents, turning the birthday party into a large camp-out. Arthur had even transfigured a particularly large rock into a small garage for Gearbox to park himself in for the night. Ron and Hermione had disappeared into the tent the three of them were to share almost half an hour ago, and Harry had just thought that he was going to give them five more minutes and then go to bed himself when a small barn owl landed on his shoulder with a letter.

"Who's this from, then…" Harry muttered, taking the parchment off the owl's leg. When he saw that it was from Mrs. Figg, he grinned. No harm in the elderly Squib being nice to him now that he didn't have to put with the Dursleys anymore, he supposed, thinking the letter was simply birthday greetings.

Then he read the letter.

* * *

The inhabitants of Number Two, Privet Drive were terribly confused. They'd been hearing terrible noises from their neighbours at Number Four all night, but just as they'd decided to go over and give that grumpy Dursley fellow what-for, the noises had stopped. But now there was the new peculiarity of the odd light hanging over the house.

It almost looked like a skull…


	11. Chapter 11

"I DON'T CARE! Nobody deserves to die this way…"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and the Order were meeting in the new location selected for Headquarters: Dumbledore's home.

Harry was surprised, although he really shouldn't have been, at the assortment of furniture and knick-knacks around the sitting room, where they were meeting. Dumbledore seemed to have decorated his house using a mix of fine antiques, modern Muggle furnishings, and items that could only have come from rummage sales.

The mantel was not spared from this treatment; Harry identified several spindly, silver instruments as twins of some from the Headmaster's office, mixed among an assortment of Muggle garden gnomes, of all things.

Prime, who had once again been magically shrunk to keep the Muggles in Godric's Hollow from noticing, held up a hand for calm. The argument had been going back and forth for at least fifteen minutes; Harry wanted retribution for the Dursleys, as horrible as they'd always been to him, and Kingsley Shacklebolt was urgently reminding him that a commando assault on Voldemort – even if they _knew_ where he was, which they _didn't_ – would inevitably fail.

"Harry," Prime rumbled, in the naturally authoritative voice that could bring the rowdiest soldier back in line, "We all understand what you're feeling; while by all accounts the Dursleys treated you as something less than human, they were still your family, and human beings, and they deserved better than what they got. But there _are_ other things to be taken into consideration, including Albus' current condition."

Harry looked out the window to where Gearbox was waiting in vehicle mode on the street; the hyperactive Autobot had produced a holographic driver and was making occasional patrols of the nearby streets with Bumblebee and another pair of Autobots Harry hadn't properly met. In the excitement, he'd forgotten about Dumbledore's "illness."

After his arm had fallen off into the ocean, Dumbledore had consulted with both Madam Pomfrey and Ratchet, the Autobot medic, about a replacement. Between them, they had come up with a rather ingenious solution: Since it was his wand arm that had been damaged, why not replace it with a sort of living wand? Working with Cybertronian technology and highly complex Transfiguration and Charms work, they had transformed Dumbledore's wand into the shape of an arm, then added articulation, attached it to the stump of his old arm, and keyed it to respond the same as his old arm had.

However, as a result of the sheer volume of magic being introduced to his system, as well as his own natural magic needing to recover from the addition of the technological components to his body, Dumbledore required plenty of bed-rest and was in no fit state to kick Miss Norris, let alone lead an attack on Voldemort.

"Can I see him? Dumbledore?"

"Of course. In fact, he's asked to speak to you in private, I was just about to mention it."

Together, Prime and Harry went into Dumbledore's bedroom. If the rest of the house was eccentric, the bedroom was simply bizarre. Not so much due to the furnishings, although Harry definitely recognized the chairs nearest the fireplace from an IKEA catalogue Aunt Petunia had left lying about once, but more due to the enormous loading bay door that dominated one wall. Looking back and forth from it to Optimus Prime, who he knew could become a large truck, Harry tried desperately not to think more than he had to about the nature of the robot's relationship with his Headmaster.

As they approached the bed, Dumbledore saw who was approaching and sat bolt upright in bed. "Harry, dear boy! So good to see you!" he exclaimed, moving to stand.

"No, Professor, you have to rest!" Harry protested, but Dumbledore simply waved his hand, which appeared to be exquisitely carved from handsome rowan wood.

"Sometimes, it is necessary to mislead others for the greater good. I am quite well, Harry, I simply needed an excuse to speak to you alone." Putting his flesh-and-blood hand on Harry's shoulder, he said softly "I know that you wish to avenge the Dursleys, as well as everyone else Voldemort has killed, but never forget that we must destroy all the Horcruxes first."

Harry became visibly excited. "You mean, we know…?"

"Yes, Harry. We know exactly where Voldemort's Horcruxes are, and more than that, we know where to find Voldemort himself.

"The war is nearly won, Harry."


End file.
